"Architecture and bikes," says my younger sister, Lauren, "that's what I remember about Amsterdam. Cute old buildings and lots of people riding bikes."
This is not actually a bad way to describe Amsterdam. I might add rain and weird early 90's music. But really, 'architecture and bikes' just about covers it. Before we went, Steph had been to Amsterdam three or four times, and had spoken so highly of the city, I was already sure I was going to like it. I mean, it's hard not to like. It's a city, that from the moment you leave the central train terminal exudes Europe in all its quaint glory.
There is the ring of concentric canals around and through the entire city that remind me of Venice, but without the smell. There are the cute canal houses lining every street, many of them with a slight tilt in one direction or another, making me think of a row of dominoes lined up and ready to be pushed over. There is the food, which doesn't quite have the notoriety of the food in France, but is good in its own right. I mean, who really doesn't like little paper cones filled with hot, crunchy french fries and mayonaisse? There were our couchsurfing hosts, Marc and Marijn, two of the nicest Dutch people you'd ever be fortunate enough to meet, and then of course, there are the bikes. Lines of bikes as far as the eye can see. Two bikes for every citizen of Amsterdam. Maybe three.
This is not actually a bad way to describe Amsterdam. I might add rain and weird early 90's music. But really, 'architecture and bikes' just about covers it. Before we went, Steph had been to Amsterdam three or four times, and had spoken so highly of the city, I was already sure I was going to like it. I mean, it's hard not to like. It's a city, that from the moment you leave the central train terminal exudes Europe in all its quaint glory.
There is the ring of concentric canals around and through the entire city that remind me of Venice, but without the smell. There are the cute canal houses lining every street, many of them with a slight tilt in one direction or another, making me think of a row of dominoes lined up and ready to be pushed over. There is the food, which doesn't quite have the notoriety of the food in France, but is good in its own right. I mean, who really doesn't like little paper cones filled with hot, crunchy french fries and mayonaisse? There were our couchsurfing hosts, Marc and Marijn, two of the nicest Dutch people you'd ever be fortunate enough to meet, and then of course, there are the bikes. Lines of bikes as far as the eye can see. Two bikes for every citizen of Amsterdam. Maybe three.
Our arrival into Amsterdam started off with a bang. We arrived on a Saturday morning. And not just any Saturday morning, no, of course we arrived on Gay Pride Saturday morning. Clearly. Luckily we found out the day before from our hosts that this was happening, or I think we would have been slightly thrown off by the amount of pink in the train station. Pink clothing, pink hair, pink flags, pink face paint.
After meeting up with our hosts, dropping off all of our things at their apartment, and having a quick cup of coffee, we all headed into the madness together to see what Amsterdam Pride was all about. It was pretty much what you might expect from a giant parade in any other major city, with a few minor exceptions. The biggest being that all the floats were on the water. Imagine 5th Ave or Market Street as a canal. Now fill all the boats with drunk dancing people in crazy costumes. Blare some early to mid-90's classics like "Barbie" to a techno beat, and you have a basic idea of what the parade was all about. Probably the most interesting part to watch was the very end, when all of the boats and floats emptied into the main canal, with everyone trying to sort out where they were, keep the party going, and not run into each other. Very amusing to watch.
The rest of the time in Amsterdam we spent wandering the streets eating in cafes, having a competition on who could spot the oldest canal house (I thought I had won when I spotted Rembrandt's house dating at 1606, which held for two days, until Steph spotted an old restaurant with year 1603 on our last morning. She wins at everything), and trying to figure out which houses might fall down first. We rented bikes and spent a day pedaling through the streets and the parks ringing our bells at people and each other. We had one very brief picnic that was put to a quick end with an unexpected downpour.
And finally, the last thing that we did was pay a visit to the Anne Frank house. This was the one thing that we both really wanted to do, but every time we walked by during our four days in the city the line seemed to go on forever. So on the final day, after putting it off for four days, we dragged ourselves out of bed early, dropped our luggage at the train station, and walked to the House, only to find the longest line we had seen yet. Luckily we had three hours before the train left. Two hours later, still in line, having braved both the unsupervised children who were feeding pigeons and then trying to kick them (I finally yelled at them), and the two young men who tried to slip into line right next to us near the front (Steph nearly attacked them), we weren't about to get out of line without seeing the house just because of missing a train. And rightly so.
After meeting up with our hosts, dropping off all of our things at their apartment, and having a quick cup of coffee, we all headed into the madness together to see what Amsterdam Pride was all about. It was pretty much what you might expect from a giant parade in any other major city, with a few minor exceptions. The biggest being that all the floats were on the water. Imagine 5th Ave or Market Street as a canal. Now fill all the boats with drunk dancing people in crazy costumes. Blare some early to mid-90's classics like "Barbie" to a techno beat, and you have a basic idea of what the parade was all about. Probably the most interesting part to watch was the very end, when all of the boats and floats emptied into the main canal, with everyone trying to sort out where they were, keep the party going, and not run into each other. Very amusing to watch.
The rest of the time in Amsterdam we spent wandering the streets eating in cafes, having a competition on who could spot the oldest canal house (I thought I had won when I spotted Rembrandt's house dating at 1606, which held for two days, until Steph spotted an old restaurant with year 1603 on our last morning. She wins at everything), and trying to figure out which houses might fall down first. We rented bikes and spent a day pedaling through the streets and the parks ringing our bells at people and each other. We had one very brief picnic that was put to a quick end with an unexpected downpour.
And finally, the last thing that we did was pay a visit to the Anne Frank house. This was the one thing that we both really wanted to do, but every time we walked by during our four days in the city the line seemed to go on forever. So on the final day, after putting it off for four days, we dragged ourselves out of bed early, dropped our luggage at the train station, and walked to the House, only to find the longest line we had seen yet. Luckily we had three hours before the train left. Two hours later, still in line, having braved both the unsupervised children who were feeding pigeons and then trying to kick them (I finally yelled at them), and the two young men who tried to slip into line right next to us near the front (Steph nearly attacked them), we weren't about to get out of line without seeing the house just because of missing a train. And rightly so.
I didn't expect the Anne Frank House to hit me quite as hard as it did. Apart from the ground floor, which has been turned into a museum shop and a ticket booth, the house remains nearly unchanged since the day the family was discovered and the house was cleared in 1944. The German and Dutch Authorities cleared all of the furniture from the house, and at Otto Frank's request, it was left bare. There were marks on the wall that recorded Anne and her sister Margo's heights during their two years in hiding. There was a small map in the parents room that was used for tracking the movements of the allies, in hopes that they would move on Amsterdam soon. There were black and white photos pasted on the walls of Anne and Margo's room of Hollywood stars. The photo of Greta Garbo above Anne's bed, had the lips tinted a light color of pink, as if someone had colored them in with a crayon. Walking around in the house, it wasn't as hard as I thought it would be to block out the thirty other tourists in the room with me, and imagine being trapped in that little space, unable to make any noise all day, unable to breathe fresh air, unable to understand what you could have possibly done wrong to deserve this. This was something I could wrap my head around imagining. What I could not do, however, was imagine how humans could possibly inflict this sort of pain on one another. I'm guessing as we make our way across Germany and visit other places, such as Dachau, I will encounter this same feeling of bewilderment again.
We finished the Anne Frank house and furiously pedaled our way across town to the train station, split duties (I bought food and returned bikes while Steph bought tickets and figured out where we left from), and made it onto our train a couple minutes early. We spent one lovely and relaxing day in Hamburg, Germany with some new friends, and now we're off to Copenhagen, and are currently on a "Business Class" bus. Very fancy. We have wifi, plug-ins, comfortable seats and plenty of leg room. It's like we've moved up in the world a little bit. I'm sure there will be many more less comfortable rides to come, but for now, I'm going to soak in this comfort as best as I can.
- EC
We finished the Anne Frank house and furiously pedaled our way across town to the train station, split duties (I bought food and returned bikes while Steph bought tickets and figured out where we left from), and made it onto our train a couple minutes early. We spent one lovely and relaxing day in Hamburg, Germany with some new friends, and now we're off to Copenhagen, and are currently on a "Business Class" bus. Very fancy. We have wifi, plug-ins, comfortable seats and plenty of leg room. It's like we've moved up in the world a little bit. I'm sure there will be many more less comfortable rides to come, but for now, I'm going to soak in this comfort as best as I can.
- EC
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